


Soulmates Never Die

by igrab



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Reunions, Valinor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrab/pseuds/igrab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While a great weight had lifted off Frodo's chest as they left Middle Earth, approaching Valinor brought no further relief for him.</p><p>His Uncle Bilbo, on the other hand, was a different story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soulmates Never Die

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly a frodo-centric fic about him dealing with everything that happened to him and learning how to heal, with the help of some dwarf princes, some elves, and a pair of old married uncles.
> 
> as you can see, there are more pairings to come, and i'm not entirely decided if it's going to be strictly kili/tauriel and fili/frodo or if they'll all end up in some other strange combination. either way, the four of them will all be important to each other.

When the winds of the far shores licked their faces and crawled into their hair and tickled their nostrils, Frodo thought he would feel healed - like everything would magically be better. And while a great weight had lifted off his chest as they left Middle Earth, approaching Valinor brought no further relief for him.

His Uncle Bilbo, on the other hand, was a different story.

With each puff of wind in the full sails of their little ship, another shadow left Bilbo's eyes. With every lap of the waves against the hull, a wrinkle smoothed and faded from his cheeks. As they sailed on to Valinor, he grew stronger, younger; he straightened his back and took ever-steadier steps to the bow rail, breathed in a deep breath and let out a loud, happy laugh that bounced off the elvish wood there.

"Gandalf!" he cried out, his brown eyes alight with joy. "Gandalf, it's beautiful! Everything is so..."

But he trailed off, and Frodo blinked and came to stand by his uncle, who looked now just as he had when Frodo had first come to live with him, and for much of the rest of his long life. That honey-brown hair with threads of grey, laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, an expressive pout on his lips and chin tipped up to meet the world head-on. He was looking out at the shore now, brows knitted, and Frodo cast out to try and see what it was that Bilbo saw.

They had a delegation waiting for them, on the banks of the port at Alqualondë. Elves, mostly, but elves such as Frodo had never seen - even taller and slimmer and more fair, more beautiful, more sharp-edged and Other. He wasn't sure he liked the look of them, and he turned to his uncle, but that wasn't what he was seeing at all. Frodo looked again.

Standing there, tucked in amidst those floating white robes, were three little blots of darkness.

Not the sort of darkness that Frodo was used to; not that at all. It was the dark of dark clothes and dark hair and a healthy layer of grit; it was the dark and small and sturdy of those who could only be called dwarves.

"Gandalf?" Bilbo said, his eyes never leaving them. "Is that..."

And something in his voice broke then, and he swallowed quickly, hands tightening on the rail. Frodo stared. He had seen that expression before, but never once on his uncle - nor on anyone like him at all. It was a look of desperate longing, the face of one seeing someone he's loved dearly and desperately for so long it has broken him many times over. It was the face that Aragorn wore upon seeing his lady Arwen at Minas Tirith; it was the look in Sam's eyes when he'd met Rosie's across that bar when they'd first come home.

"I wouldn't doubt it," Gandalf murmured. He, too, looked younger - startlingly so, though not nearly as young as Bilbo.

Something was going on here, something Frodo had no inkling of. "What are you talking about?" he murmured, trying to narrow his eyes to focus that little dwarvish blot. "Who's out there?"

His uncle swallowed and Frodo could see a wet sheen come over his eyes. "...My King," he whispered, so softly that Frodo almost didn't quite hear it. And when he had, he wasn't left with any better idea of who they meant.

The closer they got to the shore, the better Frodo was able to see individuals, rather than one mass of elvish white. There were others there, men and women of beauty beyond description, and some wore gowns and coats of all colors of the rainbow, carried staves and baskets of fine things, and some were crying.

Frodo leaned out to get a better look at the small knot of dwarves.

The tallest was almost of a height with men, and though the elves surrounding him were much taller still, there was a majesty and command in his presence that made them fade easily away. He was flanked by two others; one blond, one brown-haired, neither with the long full beards that Frodo was accustomed to seeing upon dwarven faces. They were all in deep blues and rich purples, edged with the finest wrought gold and cut gems. The younger ones - well, Frodo assumed they were younger, though he supposed that word had very little meaning in this place - were smiling ear to ear, while the elder - he had streaks of grey in his thick black hair, giving him quite a refined look - had a solemn expression, lips drawn tight together, eyes large and filled with tears.

He, too, had the look of one seeing a long-lost love; but in his case there was also worry, doubt, and a deep and abiding sorrow.

The elves and wizards stepped off the boat and were swept up in a wave of glorious embraces. Gandalf was lost for a moment, squashed between two men in deep blue cloaks, but Bilbo struck off in the opposite direction at once and Frodo made to follow him.

Time seemed to slow. No, time _did_ slow, he was certain of it.

Bilbo shed the last of his age and exhaustion like an old coat, flinging it behind him and taking one light step, another, then he was running full tilt across the quay, arms askew, a wild mad grin on his face and tears of pure joy in his eyes. The tall dwarf blinked, his eyes widened; then his companions draw back and the purest, most beautiful smile spread over his face. He caught Bilbo as he flung himself at him, spun him in a wide circle with their coats fanned out around them, then set him on his feet and held onto him like he would never, _could_ never let him go.

And Frodo still had no idea who this dwarf was. Not a single clue.

 _At some point in his life, my uncle fell in love,_ he thought. _And he never got around to telling me._

"Who's this, now?" a cheerful voice sounded to his side, as one of the dwarf's dwarfy companions sidled up to him (the one with the blond hair and the little braids).

The other was quick to follow, coming up to flank Frodo on the right. "I do believe it's a hobbit," he said, and if that wasn't a shit-eating grin on his face Frodo didn't know what was.

The blond one laughed. "I do believe it's a _Baggins_ , Master Kili. Can't you see it? The look of an expert burglar?"

He could still barely see his uncle under that massive bone-creaking hug.

Kili blinked. "A Baggins? No. Not a chance. He wouldn't've taken a wife - would he?"

Hang on. Kili. That was a familiar name. _Kili and Fili_ , his mind supplied. _They were two of the thirteen dwarves, when Bilbo had his adventure, long ago._

The blond one - surely Fili - shrugged and cocked his head. "You never know, brother. Well, let's ask him. Burglar," and Frodo blinked as he realized they really were referring to him, "is that there hobbit your father?"

Frodo sputtered. "Him? No, no. Not at all. I mean, he did raise me for the most part but he's my uncle. He never married."

 _And how odd for a hobbit_ , he thought, remembering all the gossip about town. For all that he was _odd_ and had _adventures_ it was still decidedly queer of him not to settle down. So they said.

"Never married! Ha!" Kili crowed. "See? See? I told you so, didn't I tell you so? Pay up, Fili!"

With a roll of his eyes and a good-natured groan, Fili fished in his pockets and tossed a gold coin over Frodo's head in a neat arc, which Kili caught without looking.

"Oi! Thorin!" he called out, flashing the coin. "This nephew here of Bilbo's says he never married!"

 _Thorin Oakenshield_.

The name had a sort of ring to it, Frodo had always thought. It was... majestic. And now that he was standing there, face to face with the real thing, he couldn't find any other word to describe him. He was a thing of beauty and power, and he had his arms around Frodo's uncle like he owned him.

"Of course he didn't," the dwarf rumbled, burying his face in Bilbo's messy brown hair and giving the top of his head a kiss. "He lost his heart in a mountain hall, long ago."

Little hobbit hands curled into the panels of Thorin's coat, and Frodo was astonished to see his uncle - his _uncle_ , who looked young enough to be his brother at the moment of all things - press up on his tip-toes and touch his lips to the dwarf's. "He did indeed," the hobbit murmured, his voice silky-sweet and shockingly _present_. "Some stupid dwarf made off with it, as I recall. And then, you know, he had the audacity to go and _die_ on me."

"Oh, and that's my fault?" Without another thought, Thorin turned Bilbo's shoulders and tucked them under his arm, strolling off deeper into the city as if this were any other day. "Come along, my heart. I want to show you everything."

Frodo stood on the quay feeling very stupid indeed, and very - well - _small_. How had he not known? In all that time, in all their conversations, this had never come up before. Not _once_.

 _I think I'd've liked to know I had an uncle-in-law all this time,_ he thought, quite a bit cross now that it was sinking it. _He couldn't've possibly thought I'd hold it against him, could he? I'm no Sackville-Baggins_ , and he began to follow after them, hands shoved in his pockets, for he had nowhere else to go. _I've been friends with Merry and Pippin for years, of course I'm all right with those sorts of things!_

Frodo stood on the quay feeling very stupid indeed, and very - well - _small_. How had he not known? In all that time, in all their conversations, this had never come up before. Not _once_.

 _I think I'd've liked to know I had an uncle-in-law all this time,_ he thought, quite a bit cross now that it was sinking it. _He couldn't've possibly thought I'd hold it against him, could he? I'm no Sackville-Baggins_ , and he began to follow after them, hands shoved in his pockets, for he had nowhere else to go. _I've been friends with Merry and Pippin for years, of course I'm all right with those things!_

Just as he was about to sink into a black mood with blacker thoughts, two hands descended on his shoulders and gripped him in an almost painful vice.

"Come now, why the long face?" the blond dwarf said, his own lit up in a mischievous grin.

"You'd better get used to it," the other added, and they were steering him now, following the others at a more rambling pace and absolutely _not_ letting go of Frodo's shoulders. "They've been waiting for this for years upon years."

"Has it been years?" Fili asked, looking genuinely surprised.

Kili blinked. "It has, or at least I think it has." Noticing Frodo's confused look, his mouth tilted in a smile. "Time doesn't really mean much on this side of the sea."

"Ah," Frodo said, for there was nothing more to say. It was easy, shockingly easy, for Bilbo to slip back into this, like no time at all had passed. Frodo's entire life had changed - he'd been _ruined_ , by a little gold ring that Bilbo had picked up on a lark and now here he was, kissing dwarves and wandering off like nothing else mattered.

Frodo had all these terrible memories, and nothing to do with them.

"Hey," and it was the elder once more, snapping his fingers in front of Frodo's face with just enough compassion for it not to startle him. "Come with us. We'll show you where we've been living."

Valinor was undeniably beautiful, and not in the way that Rivendell was, or Minas Tirith. It was beautiful in pieces, in tiny gardens tucked away in strange courtyards, tall trees with soaring Elven architecture in every style, every age, all jumbled together like a collection of comfortable knickknacks. The feeling of rightness and _home_ only increased when Fili and Kili led him up a winding path made of shimmering flats of pearl, to come out on a small beach, looking out at the ocean. There was a garden growing up from the sand, a riot of color, and sandstone steps led to a pair of round doors, one blue, one green. The green door was exactly like the one at Bag End - complete with the rune scratched into it, and it was open, showing off a cozy nest of halls and rooms, half in wood, and half stone.

"I do believe that's physically impossible," Frodo muttered as he peered in - he could hear his uncle exclaiming over something down the hall and a low bass rumble of Thorin's laughter. It made his heart ache. _How could he not have known?_

"Space means about as little as time does," Fili explained with a soft smile. "It's what you make of it."

"I think Thorin missed Bilbo a little," Kili stage-whispered, and Frodo found a laugh bubbling up under his tongue. It didn't come out, but it was the closest he'd gotten in a long time.

"I didn't know," he said, a faraway look in his eye as he heard more noises of gentle and cheerful bickering and imagined what they must look like, the love in their faces, the happiness. "He never told me I had another uncle all this time. He spoke of his adventures, but only as something that happened to him, never as - he never called it Erebor," and that had been what had struck Frodo as the most strange, even back as a wee lad. "Always the Lonely Mountain."

Because he knew Merry and Pippin, he could _feel_ the look exchanged by the brothers behind his back and he turned with a little frown. They didn't seem to be sharing mirth, though, but rather worry, and they moved in tandem to take Frodo and cart him off to the other hobbit-hole, behind the blue door.

"Come on," Fili murmured. "Let's show you to your room."

The inside of this one was... different. The ceilings were high, like Elven halls, but there were big round windows and long workbenches, overflowing with gemcraft, fletching, and metalwork. 

"Sorry about the mess," Kili said cheerfully, though he jumped up on the table and deftly walked down it without disturbing any of the projects for no reason other than to show off. Fili, ever the good brother, started to poke at his legs to try and trip him up, and before long they were shoving at each other like children, laughing and familiar and sending an ache running through Frodo's chest. 

_I would give anything_ , he thought suddenly, _anything, to be happy._

"Oi!" A red-haired elf leaned out from a doorway - Frodo flushed as she realized her hair was completely unbraided, and judging by what he could see of her, she wasn't wearing anything. "Trying to have a bath, here!"

"I can help with that," Kili drawled with a leer, and Fili took the opportunity to hook his foot around his brother's ankle and send him tumbling to the ground. The elf was not amused.

She caught sight of Frodo, though, and her smile was really quite lovely.

" _Mae g'ovannen_ ," she murmured. "My name is Tauriel, and I apologize for these brutes," and Frodo had to smile at the corner of his mouth as she deftly ignored the chorus of protests to that statement. "I welcome you to our home, and would be glad to make your acquaintance when I have more clothes on."

"You really don't need them," Kili insisted, and his brother punched him in the side of the head.

"Ignore him. One of us is a gentleman, I swear," Fili said.

Kili sputtered with indignation, turning away to fix his brother with a disbelieving eye. "You? A gentleman?"

"I'm Frodo," he told the elf, for he was beginning to understand that if he waited for the brothers to shut up, he'd never get a word in edgewise. "Frodo Baggins."

A light dawned on Tauriel's face, and she gasped. "Is he - "

"Nephew," Kili finished for her. "Not son. And yes, Bilbo's probably getting ploughed like a field right about now - "

" _Kili_." Tauriel's voice was stern but there was no hiding the affection behind it. "Don't talk about your uncles that way."

They showed Frodo a room that was, apparently, his. The bed was heavenly, soft and heavy like the ones at Rivendell, but the thick blanket cover was deep blue velvet, stitched with silver runes all around the edges. He just wanted to sink into it and never leave, and it suddenly occurred to him that he could. This was Valinor. He could sleep as much as he liked, eat when he wished to, not when he needed to, and time wouldn't slip away from him like so much water.

The elder brother hesitated at the doorframe, and they both listened to Kili's boots as they clomped away.

"If there's anything you need," he murmured, his face serious but not grave, "even if it's just someone to listen - please don't hesitate to ask. Kili can be a bit...."

He trailed off, as if choosing a word was difficult, and Frodo finished it for him. "Much?"

"Yes," Fili said with a chuckle. "A bit much. Trust me, I understand." 

Frodo wasn't sure if he meant about Kili, or... in general. He was having trouble getting a read on the elder dwarf prince, or perhaps he was just exhausted. He felt empty, like a blown glass jug with all the heavy cream drained out, and he just wanted to sleep.

"I'll let you know," he said, as Fili appeared to be waiting for a real answer. A smile tugged at the dwarf's mouth, one of his little yellow braids twitching.

"See that you do," he responded, and then he was gone. Frodo felt his eyelids tug, and he crawled under the covers.

Sleep took him gently and thoroughly; he did not dream.


End file.
